Thursday, December 19, 2013
The recently-dissipated arctic front that visited itself upon all the land leaves in its aftermath a city that is seedy and snarly and stripped of all humor.
To longingly recall those cold, austere days, sharp and bright though they were, seems foolish. There is no sense in wishing to forestall what must come. Zeus's nod is irrevocable and he nodded long ago.
People hurry from place to place with nary a smile to spare. Even the panhandlers and the clipboard-toting fundraisers are surly. I'm worried and restless.
I had grave news recently from a friend, a former lover. I mull on this as I walk in the cold. On this and on all the people who've passed. Father, family, friends. And on all the disasters narrowly avoided.
We are at the mercy of gargantuan, indifferent entities we cannot possibly understand. I grimace to remember.
Gray dusk settles onto the streets. The sun sets to the south of Council Crest. Two days off the solstice, the darkness descends.
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